


Rust (VERSION DISCONTINUED)

by thebeingunknown



Category: Alien vs Predator (2004), Aliens vs Predators Series - Various Authors, Predator Original Series (1987-1990), Predators (2010), The Predator (2018)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Alien Flora & Fauna, Alien Planet, Alien/Human Relationships, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Dubious Ethics, Eventual Romance, Exophilia, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Future, Hunters & Hunting, Implied Sexual Content, Mild Sexual Content, Outer Space, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Yautja
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23895976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebeingunknown/pseuds/thebeingunknown
Summary: Atop the crags and cliffs of Planet Rust's surface, predator and prey alike roam. It's a tough world down there, and four people struggle to make it walking with the beasts of the rock. Troubles and misfortune plague every walk of life—but sometimes, even the fiercest of foes may become an ally, bonded through circumstance.
Comments: 46
Kudos: 10





	1. //IMPORTANT NOTICE//

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please read for context

So I've decided to go under construction with this story, I feel like I kind of waited too long to have the Predator meet our character(s) and want to edit this story so that it happens earlier on. I think it's too slow for just a fanfiction because I took this a little bit too seriously lolol

This version of the story will staying here for my own comfort until I get the replacement of this one resolved. I'll be making a new one under either the same title, or, "Predator on Planet Rust", same tags, etc, but the chapters/story structure will be different. So if you're interested in reading this, please look on my profile for the UPDATED version of this same story. I just made this decision so if the new version isn't up within 1-2 weeks, don't worry, it's coming, I just gotta get it squared away first. 

Thanks for the patience, and stay fresh cheese bags 


	2. Planet Rust

The days were so monotonous. For every transport container she logged and shipped, Bellamy couldn’t help but wonder, _what was I thinking_? It was strange, how the days felt so long, yet four years had passed her by without mercy. Was this pit she had dug herself into? Petty as it was, she didn’t want to blame herself. It was bad luck in life, and her lot was not a good one. 

As another container rolled by on the belt, she halted it as usual and flung open the metal boxes, checking the contents. It was simply a once-over to prove that she at least “looked”. But she knew how the mining crew would often smuggle uncertified meat onto the space fleet. Before, perhaps she would have been uppity enough to report those who were partaking in the smuggled products. Now? She could honestly not care less. So be it, her thoughts were—it was their funeral. Who was she to stop them? 

Besides, hunting was a pleasant pastime compared to the other meaningless hobbies she could have picked up. This one yielded just slightly more benefit. 

Last container. It crawled by, she stopped it, checked it, and indeed found buried underneath some of the refined ores air-tight packages of meat. Most likely from the invasive species that hunted the deserts around them, which would sometimes harass the miners from behind the field barriers. Electrocute themselves on them while trying to clamber over. It was good fun to them, watching the creatures do that; there was so little entertainment to find there. 

“All clear,” she told herself with a small, knowing smile. Her shift had not been a double one that day; a friend helped her out and covered the loading job. Otherwise, she and just a couple others would have been the ones stuck doing that for the next couple of hours. And as always, she was tired—those crate lids were heavy, for what they were. 

She went through procedure, headed to the wall panel to shut off the transport belt. She was just about to flip the breaker before she noticed a small, brown, paper-wrapped package made its way down the belt. Instant smile—things like this made her day. The mining crew, gruff as they were and sometimes a bit brutish, really were mostly nice men. She looked around to make sure no one was around and switched off the belt, heading over to it and taking the package. Not always did she get a little gift from them, but, they tried when they could. A particular couple of the guys from there were the usual perpetrators. 

Hiding in the storage room, she tore open the paper to find some foodstuffs, along with new arrowheads. No matter what, there was always some kind of food item in those packages. Even though the mining crew was arguably worse off than she was, their little community stuck together. They helped each other out when they needed it. Like when Kent, one of the miners, overheard the booth operator telling Bellamy that she didn’t have enough credits for meal tickets that week. So, she got a surprise on the belt, addressed to her by him. Four tickets. 

She smiled and almost felt a bit teary-eyed. She’d be grateful for them forever, and would definitely repay the favor. The arrowheads were shiny, newly made by Dana. She would have to thank her, too. For when she could, Bellamy would go hunting with her party and make all of her friends something special. They always looked forward to those days. Beautifully charred meat, with some kind of spice they found growing in pods off of thorny bushes in the crags. 

Feeling content, she stuck the items into her satchel and left, locking up the transport room behind her. It was late, and the facility had quieted down considerably as she walked the vacant halls back to the exit, where she’d walk to their lodgings. The high-noon of day on planet Rust was sweltering hot and arid. But when night fell, the temperature dropped considerably, causing her to be blasted with a chilly breeze as she stepped out into the open air. The distant calls of the critters of the night was the only thing to hear beside the wind. No more heavy machinery, none of the whirring of the transport belt. Incredible silence. This had been perhaps her absolute favorite part of the day, finally getting off of work and being able to step out into the cool night. It really was a different world after sundown. 

The lights of their shantytown up ahead glittered, sometimes flickering in and out. It was so humble, but, it was home. She felt so much more comfortable there than anywhere else on that planet, save for their designated hunting areas, which she knew well.   
She heard the door behind her slide open, and when she turned around, found Jax leaving as well. He hadn’t noticed her yet. 

“Hey stranger,” she called out, waving him over. His suit was dirty and covered in hydraulic fluid, along with repair gel stuck to the gloves. He looked exhausted. 

Jumping a little, he stopped and looked up at her. He shoved his scanner back into his belt. “Quit that,” he complained. He came up to her and took to her side, looking around them. The barriers shimmered and sometimes popped when the little insects would fly into them. They only ran a current through the barriers at night, when he truly dangerous predators of the desert were out.

“You’re just jumpy,” Bellamy chuckled. The dry air had her lips chapped and cracking, which was made worse by her habit of licking them. Maybe they could take a stroll to the market and see if she couldn’t find some lip salve, uncommon as it was. 

He didn’t respond to her comment and instead leaned back against the wall, letting out a deep breath. She asked, “Long day?” 

“You have no idea. Everything's just breakin' down.” 

“I feel you. Sort of. If it makes you feel any better, the supplies got through just fine. They should be loading them right about now.” 

This seemed to lighten his spirits a little, knowing that their patrons back on the fleet would be routing their credits into their accounts soon. As much as he wanted to spend it on miscellaneous stuff, he really needed to upgrade his tools. That was painful, having all of his credits go toward either food or tool replacement. But that’s how life was on Rust; it was paycheck to paycheck, so to speak. 

Bellamy hummed and put a hand on his shoulder, patting lightly. “Hey, you’re a lady killer, Jax; why don't you find one of those girls from the fleet and see if she can work some magic to get you back up there?” she jested. 

“Oh, ha-ha. As if,” he said sarcastically. “I couldn’t get someone to want to go through that kind of trouble even if I wanted.” 

“Joking, joking,” she responded, “but, you don't want to?” 

Bellamy knew he was attached to everyone there, all of his friends, including her. But it was curious that he would say that, considering how much he hated this lifestyle. 

He looked as though he was contemplating for a moment before answering, “Nah. If it ain't working on busted machinery here, it's working on busted machinery there. It's the same, just more rules.” 

“Or, it's just easier to get caught there,” she smiled. He laughed and shook his head. 

“Yeah, maybe that, too.” 

She heaved a sigh and tilted her head back, looking up at the sky. The light pollution was low; that, she could actually enjoy. It was a pretty sight in any case, with all the little pinprick stars against the backdrop of space. They could see lights reflecting off of the fleet sometimes, depending on where it was in orbit. So large, yet when you were on it? Small. It felt cramped. On Rust, they at least had the ability to move about. 

Both of them heard the familiar sound of the facility shutting off its lights, leaving them only bathed in the light of the pathmarkers against the barrier. 

“Guess it's time to head out,” she said. 

“Go to bed so we can do it all again the next day,” Jax replied in a sigh as they walked. The trip back to the shantytown wasn’t too far, but, on nights like this, they relished the cool quietness. They were about halfway when he suddenly asked with curiosity, “When are you off next?” 

“Day after tomorrow, thank God.” 

“Ah, shit. Tomorrow's mine. You going hunting anytime soon?” He was always excited for her to come back with their bounties, even though he never participated himself. No, he was a bit too wary for that—but he could appreciate the hustle. Bellamy was a strong girl. 

“Keep it down,” she nipped, wishing he hadn’t had such carrying voice. Despite how inopportune it was sometimes, he definitely could have been a singer, had he the chance.

They finally came upon the marketplace, where things had to be kept hush-hush in case any of the officers were nearby. “Sorry,” he apologized quietly. “So when?” 

The smells of the few different stalls roasting veg and juicing fruit hit her nose hard. She wanted it so bad, but it was expensive for what it was. She couldn’t blame the vendors, though; they had went through quite a bit of trouble just to grow the stuff, let alone get the clear to sell it. 

“Probably soon, Dana made me new arrowheads,” she responded, eyes wandering the stalls at either side of them. Growing anything there was exceedingly difficult, but, with tight regulations, they were able to few grow vegetables and even some fruits to roast and sell as vendors. The officers liked to have treats, too; they had to be there just like the rest of them. 

“Say, that girl's pretty scrappy,” he said, “but good on her.” 

“She's a lifesaver. We were thinking about going a bit further than the crags this–“

Jax cut her off almost immediately with, “Are you crazy?” He tugged her toward him by her sleeve, making sure no one’s head turned toward them. “That's crazy, Bellamy.” 

She glared at him and pulled away. “Game’s getting hard to come by over there, we want to just push a bit past and scope things out. If it'll ease your mind, we'll just scout. No hunting yet.” 

A vendor jumped out from behind the counter and approached them, trying to entice them to come to his stall. Little ornaments made from smelted metal scraps, along beads made of the reddish-orange clay that was commonly found there. Bracelets and necklaces, some rings. The people living there wouldn’t care to by any for themselves, but some would purchase these little trinkets to send to their families on the fleet. It was supporting local business, anyway—the scraps would have likely gone to waste if not. Though, Bellamy herself didn’t have anyone in mind to send anything to. She was a bit estranged from her mother up on the fleet. 

“Damn, I wish I had somethin' to trade for some of that,” Jax mumbled as they passed a particularly handsome tray of roasted tubers. 

“I would help you out, but I'm empty too,” Bellamy replied, referring to her non-existent supply of tradable items. She wasn’t too savvy when it came to haggling, no doubt. She wondered what the woman selling the food would even take for those, if not credit. Maybe Bellamy would hit her up later and ask if she needed someone to do a spice run, because she would gladly do it. 

They kept on through the market, both wishing they could get something, but too low on funds to do it. She’d spent almost all of her recent wages on materials to have someone make a new bow with. Her old one had broken during the last hunt. A shame, really; she'd liked that one a lot. 

Jax went through each stall asking for favors just that one time, saying he’d repay them within the week. All declined, naturally. He knew it was a long shot, but, his motto was that it didn’t hurt to try. He was a nice guy, and stuck to his word, but things were tough there—they couldn’t afford to be doing favors. 

“Can it, Jax. They aren’t gonna do it,” Bellamy said bluntly, gently leading him away from the last vendor. 

“I know, I know,” he whined, “but I gotta at least try.” 

“Your time's better spent elsewhere,” she warbled. “Come on, there ain’t anything here for us. Let's go.” 

Begrudgingly, he followed her back to their housing units, where she would take the elevator up to the third floor. She was always slightly concerned that the elevator would just give out on her while she was still in it, the way it creaked and groaned. It was on the outside of the building, too; it was but a simple pulley system that couldn’t bear no more than a couple of people.   
“Well, I'm off,” Bellamy announced as she stepped into the platform, it squeaking unpleasantly as she did so. Jax lived on the first floor, to his pleasure. He didn’t have to deal with the thing every day. 

“I should probably check that out sometime,” he muttered to himself, taking notice of all the little wrong sounds he heard from it. 

“Goodnight, Jax.” 

“Night, Bella.” 

She was just about to press the fourth floor before she stopped. “Ugh, don't call me that,” she groaned.

He only laughed in response, knowing just how much the nickname annoyed her. He corrected himself, “Night, B.” 

She rolled her eyes with a small grin and went ahead up to her apartment, which was about as tiny as they got. Nothing but a studio, with a kitchen, bedroom, and sofa all crammed in practically next to each other. It was home, regardless; she was glad to be back. She found her neighbor, Hayden, leaning against the railing of the walkway, looking wistfully out at the landscape past the markets. One of her three hunting buddies. 

“Hey, you,” she said, passing up her door. Hayden turned her attention over to her after a second's delay. 

“Hey, yourself,” she said coolly. Bellamy wouldn’t admit it, but she was a little envious of her voice, how low it was, and the soft quality of it. She was smoking some tobacco, which was a rare find in the market. They couldn’t grow it on the colony, so, it had to be imported from the agricultural world through the fleet's shipments. It was very pricey. Generally, only the officers and the like had any. 

“I see you’ve got a smoke,” Bellamy commented casually, leaning against the railing as her friend was. “Mind me takin’ a puff?” 

The laid-back woman lightly blew out a plume and raised her eyebrows, then looked over at her. “Have at it,” she said eventually. She handed her the roll and watched her relax more after taking a couple of breaths. It wasn't anything but tobacco; anything else was strictly prohibited. A smoke once in while was okay. But anyone caught with any kind of drug or substance would be either fined to total bankruptcy, or, alternatively, thrown in jail. Either would ruin you—and Bellamy did not want to get caught up in that. 

“You give an officer some of your time for this?” she asked, taking her last puff. She handed it back to her. 

Hayden laughed heartily. She knew that Bellamy didn’t mean anything by it; it was an inside joke that only ladies got the cigarettes off of the officers if they didn’t buy them themselves. There was a partial truth in that, but, not to disparage those who did. Something like a smoke was the only thing making some people's day worthwhile, although that was not the case for her. Neither her friend. 

She sighed suddenly and continued looking onward, seemingly in thought. There was a comfortable silence until she spoke, “We have to get off this rock."

Bellamy had known Hayden in all of her four years there, and she’d wanted to leave every day of it, having been there much longer than the huntress. Seven years, going on eight in a few months. They didn’t celebrate it; Hayden saw no point in it, and Bellamy had known that was a useless expense. 

“What’s the hubbub?” Bellamy questioned softly, brushing some of the stray black hairs behind Hayden's ear. 

“All of it. I want us to live somewhere nice,” she responded wistfully, “where we don't have to work like this. You, Jax…Marcus. We should pool our credits and get a one-way shuttle out of here to Atlas.” 

Ah, Atlas. The rich agricultural world. Farmers were not poor, not by any means; they kept both the space fleet and the mining colony sustained. It was the motherworld that provided when Earth had no longer been available. 

Bellamy let out a light chuckle, but, it was mostly just to break the mood. “I think you've gotten a bit too much sun, girlie.”

“I’m being serious,” Hayden spat back, snuffing out her cigarette under her boot. “You may be okay with wasting away here, but not me. I'm not okay with it.”

Bellamy dropped the act and turned away. She wasn’t sure what to say to the hopeful woman—there wasn't much to. Shuttles were by far the most expensive thing you could pay for there, let alone taking a one-way to Atlas, where they’d be too broke to even register for citizenship. It would be a long time before they saved up that amount of credits. She contemplated on what to say, but there just wasn’t anything good. She only briefly looked back at Hayden as she started to walk away. “Game is getting hard to find out in the crags. I think you should talk to Marcus and Sonya about going past the boundaries, because these little kills lately aren't gonna keep us afloat.” 

Hayden, irritable, didn’t respond and looked away. She shook her head silently. 

Bellamy inserted her keystick into the panel and stepped into her apartment, tugging out of her boots right away. She didn’t like arguing with Hayden; she was the type to stay mad about things. She wondered if she would even agree to going with them on the scouting trip. 

Perhaps Hayden had been right. Bellamy had grown complacent when it came to her life, as many living there did. It was Hayden's drive that kept her so feisty, and for a moment, she reckoned that Hayden might just leave them all together. She certainly couldn’t blame her for doing so. Regardless, she stripped of her work suit and slipped on her night clothes, opening up her food storage. She had a few dried meats left from the last hunt, which were sealed in plastic bags. Some nutrient liquid, which tasted of green things and something else bitter. They weren’t pleasant, no; but she bought them when she could, anyway. 

She didn’t turn on any of her lights, instead letting the light of the moon and stars outside pour in through her windows. Working mainly as a shipment logger in the dim transport facility made her too accustomed to the dark, which made bright lights nearly unbearable. It may as well have been living in a cave—going outside during the day without eye protection was a good way for her to acquire a migraine. 

As she passed by her lounge, she noticed out of the patio window that there was something…shimmering. In the distance by the crags, past the barriers. She could see over those. For a second, she could have sworn that she was just overtired. That her eyes were playing tricks on her. But it persisted, the faint shimmer moving swiftly over the landscape. The crags were hard for them to traverse, not to mention dangerous—but this looked almost like it was gliding, it was so agile. Over the rocks, onto the steep cliff faces. She watched, squinting, to see it move up a crag, then vanished over the top of the rock. She looked and looked, but there was nothing to see anymore. It was gone. 

Now, she couldn’t even have tried to come up with ideas as to what it was. She’d never seen anything like it. It was extremely curious, and even with her overwhelming desire to go and investigate, she would have been a fool to. The desert and crags were not to be wandered at night. Never at night; that was their policy. They were day hunters, for the darkness brought on the creatures that lay hidden and resting during the day. Ones that were much faster and much stronger than themselves. 

Eventually, she pulled away from the window, shutting the blinds. She didn’t know what to think as she tried to settle down in her bed. Her body was so tired. It needed this. 

And yet, her mind would not let her rest. 


	3. Things Are Not As They Seem

“I’m telling you, Bellamy; this is a terrible idea,” Jax chastised as she got ready to head with their navigator, Marcus, to her spot where she hid her hunting gear. Just past the barriers, tucked away underneath a shelf rock. It had been too risky to keep in the house. 

“Oh, hush up, Jax,” Bellamy replied, slipping on a jacket over her shirt. “You know that isn't gonna stop me. Come on, you like the extra pay just as much as I do.” 

“Well, that's beside the point—you said you saw something weird last night,” he said. He referenced how she'd told him earlier that morning about the oddity she had seen from her window the night prior. 

“And?” 

She began to head out the door, but he quickly jumped in front of it. “I’m just sayin', it sounds dodgy.”

Giving him a deadpan look, she pushed him aside and left, letting him slip out before she locked it back. “If I gave up on everything on account of something dodgy, do you think I'd be smuggling unregulated food products onto a space fleet?” 

He shrugged hesitantly, knowing that he couldn’t really come back with anything justifiable. He followed closely by her as she checked around the area to make sure that an officer hadn’t sat himself down nearby, and when she saw that the coast was clear, slunk betwixt the mess of hastily-placed housing units. They weaved in and out until they eventually came upon the barrier, where Jax took out his scanner. 

“Alright, do your magic,” Bellamy chimed. As much as he wanted the credits, sometimes, he hated indulging her. 

“Just in case something happens, remember my words,” he started, following along the barrier until he found a control panel, “I told ya' so.” He pressed the face of the tool to the side of the panel, which would override the safety locks and allow them to disable a small section of it. Right on time, Marcus came striding over from an adjacent alley and approached the now-disabled section. 

“You ready?” he asked, voice deep a little gravelly. He kept his graying hair in a short wolftail at the back of his head, off of his neck. It made Bellamy fleetingly think about if she should just buzz all her hair off so it would be cooler. 

“As always,” said Bellamy, with a certain casualness that secretly irked Jax a little. He felt that she didn’t take this seriously enough, no matter how long she’d been hunting the area. She knew how easy he was to worry. Even being just a few minutes late always had him pacing about, anxious—but, she did always come back. Sometimes with a few cuts and bruises, though intact nonetheless. 

Jax trailed the two as they ventured past the barriers, having to cross some plains before reaching the crags. He never parted too far from the perimeter; just enough to see Bellamy off. 

“This is as far as I'm gonna go,” Jax announced. 

“That's fine,” Bellamy responded. “Thanks, Jax.” 

“I second that, yeah,” old Marcus added. He didn’t talk often, but when he did, it was always pretty curt and brief-like. A splendid navigator, though—from the first days of the colony, he’d been there mapping out this place when they were trying to find where to set up camp. He knew the parts like the back of his hand, depending on how far they decided to go. 

Bellamy and Marcus were just about to set off when Jax called out one last time, “Come back in one piece, Bellamy, will you?” He squinted his eyes in the harsh sun, running a hand over his coarse, shaved hair. 

She simply chuckled a little and reassured him that yes, she would return just like always, and he’d have a field day packing up and sending off the products they would get from new hunting grounds. 

She waited behind Marcus a few paces just to make sure that Jax made it back to the perimeter just fine, watching as he reactivated the barrier behind him. Marcus noticed her lagging and whistled to get her attention. 

“I’m comin',” she nipped back, entering the crags with him. 

They travelled into her normal ground first, as they normally would. The area was mottled with shades of yellow, orange, and red—all from the rock and the ground, along with dry, thorny bushes and the like dotted about the landscape. There wasn’t anything particularly picturesque about it if you weren't into that kind of scene, but, she did have an appreciation for its uniqueness. She paid special attention to the rock formations she’d seen the shimmer on the night before, subconsciously looking for it again. Still nothing, as her rational mind had expected; it didn’t hurt to try, in any case. 

“You and that boy,” Marcus mentioned suddenly, watching his steps closely as they went up a shifty incline. 

“What about him?” Bellamy responded. She nearly lost her footing on the loosely-packed rocks while she walked. A twisted ankle was sure to put a damper on the excursion if she didn’t watch it. 

“He seems like the worrisome type. Your partner?” 

Jax, a partner? No. Both parties made it clear that was not how the relationship was. In all honesty, she wasn’t sure why he’d ever taken so quickly to her. She seemed to mildly annoy him more often than not, although all in good spirits. Perhaps that had been it, after all. 

“No, no partner; and yes, he is the worrisome kind,” she said truthfully. They ended up at the top of the little hill, to which she’d usually turn back and flank either side looking for the smaller game that sunbathed atop the warm rocks. But this time, she’d go past her boundaries, pushing toward the large plains where real beasts roamed. Herd animals, that were big and lumbering, but frighten one, and all of them would take off in a stampede. It was unknown territory; some place she’d only observed from afar. Past the plains were more of the crags, but much more monumental than these she had been so used to. 

“Well, it seems like the two if you have a good thing goin'. Cherish your relationships here, girl— I mean it.” 

Despite having met Marcus before and talked to him on a few occasions, Bellamy admittedly did not know much about him. Only that he was one of the people who helped this entire mining operation find its footing on the unknown world, and someone who had charted multiple planets before. Yet here he was, in this backwater place, working odd jobs and lazing around most of the time. 

She was a little taken aback by how much like a parent or even grandparent he sounded, but heeded his words all the same. It made her wonder why he'd said it to begin with. 

“I do, believe me,” she said finally. 

They stopped for a moment, him assessing the landscape ahead of them. Even though blind in one eye, he scanned it with deliberateness and intent. It wasn’t a clueless stare like she’d seen many times before, but one that told her his gears were turning. Maybe trying to find a way around the plains, as in the far distance, she could see the mass of the herd congregated around a small waterhole. 

“You see them, over there by the oasis?” he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder and pointing at the animals. “You don't want to go near them.” 

It was hard to tell, but she could discern long, swishing tails, which seemed to have something pointed at the tip. 

“Barbs,” the thought hit her. He let go of her shoulder and leaned back into the shade. It was really getting hot out there. 

“Poisonous barbs,” he corrected, “nasty stings. We'll have to find a way around.” 

She was fit enough and up to the challenge of traversing the crags. It was he that she was a little doubtful of; he was in his late fifties or early sixties. He hadn't much trouble so far, which she'd noticed, but the terrain grew more and more extreme the farther you went. The plains were technically a basin (though dry), surrounded on three sides by the rocks and cliffs stretching around it. They seemed to reach a peak just across from them, where the oasis was. 

“Looks like we'll have to flank toward East and go around,” Marcus said, one hand on one hip and the other shielding his eyes. “Anything the other way would be headed right back toward the colony.” 

“You sure you’re up to it?” Bellamy asked. She wasn’t intending it to be an insult or challenge, but it sure had sounded that way. 

He blew a breath out, “Ha. Just because I'm old, doesn't mean I don't have it in me anymore. Mind your tongue, missy.” He laughed it off at her and then said, “Come on, let’s get movin'. We don't want to be out here come high noon.”

And so, they started along the edge of the plains, trying to keep in the shade of the taller rocks. She had a water pack strapped to her back, as did he, which came in quite handy by eliminating carrying sacks or bottles. She did have a small satchel across her shoulder, though—just a basic medkit, along with a protein solution stuck inside. They’d left pretty early, just before sun-up to avoid the predators. There was roughly four hours until the heat of the day would truly begin to set in. 

Both people heard the shrill, warbling call of one of the native animals somewhere in the vicinity. It was hard to place as sounds echoed and bounced off of the environment, but she could guess that it was up ahead, and relatively nearby. 

Marcus instinctively reached for the small weapon on his hip as they halted, listening for its cry again. He would not shoot unless absolutely necessary; he knew the call of this particular animal, a feathered creature with talons and spines, was so swift that it would have been difficult to fire upon anyway. Marcus was not a sharpshooter by any means. So, Bellamy also reached for her weapon, identical to his. They were only handheld and relatively weak shots, but in a pinch, it did its job. 

“Hey, watch out,” Bellamy said quietly, glancing over to their side. “Those things pack a mean kick.” 

“I'm aware."

She flinched in a start as the animal abruptly clambered over onto the rop of a rock formation, looking behind itself warily. At first, she'd thought that it had heard them or smelled them coming through, but it was odd to see it so spooked without their provocation. They were natural-born runners, and could leap some distance. It scurried over the rocks and jumped the gap between that and another formation, eventually disappearing behind a cliff face. It was ever curious. And unsettling, too—they were quite the predator in those parts, with their own predators being the night-roaming feline that hunted them while they rested. Still, it was unlikely that a Pantherine had been hunting it. She'd never seen one just out and about during the day; they usually stayed in their dens.

Seeing that the creature had left, Marcus relaxed his hand and turned to Bellamy, who seemed uncomfortable. She did not want to encounter a Pantherine on this trip. 

“Scared?” he inquired, eyebrow raised. 

“Worried about a Pantherine bein' around here,” she explained wearily. He turned to look all around them, as if to assure her that there was nothing there. At least not yet, he thought. 

“We'd have seen it by now,” he muttered. “But, you're right. Let's not stick around to find out.” 

For the rest of the time that they travelled, Marcus taking notes of landmarks on the way, she kept her hand ready to grab her weapon at any time. It just felt too exposed, wandering through the unexplored crags—she felt totally out of her element. Marcus, he seemed comfortable enough, but still kept a healthy caution. He remembered flying over these parts while surveying for the colony directors.   
They eventually came to a dead-end, where a steep ledge sat in their way. Marcus cursed it, while Bellamy simply stared up at the cliff face, wondering whether they should turn back or actually try to climb it. 

“Shit,” he grumbled. She could tell he was feeling a tad apprehensive at the idea of trying to scale the ledge. 

“Shit, indeed,” she repeated, a frown forming on her face. What a setback, hitting a dead-end such as this with no climbing gear. She knew the terrain would have gotten extreme, but she hadn't expected this. 

“Next course of action?” she wondered aloud. 

He approached the rock and tested and prodded it for a bit, trying to see how stable it really was. It seemed to be sturdy enough; not a lot of loose rock, and from the few experimental ledges he grabbed onto, it looked to be sturdy enough to climb. And while it wasn't a total ninety-degree angle, the incline warranted an unpleasant fall should either of them lose their grip. Perhaps a slide down, busting their chins on rocks, cutting up their hands on some of the jagged outcrops. Not pleasant at all. 

He heaved a sigh and looked back at her, “I think it's doable.” 

“Are you sure?” she questioned him, skeptical. She eyed him in doubt. A younger, more able body like hers would even have a fair amount of trouble climbing that, lest and older fellow such as himself. It was a ridiculous idea. Worth it? Possibly. But only possibly; not guaranteed. 

“Come on, I'll give you a boost up.” 

He crouched down and laced his fingers together low to the ground, to which she reluctantly took, letting him propel her up to a better grabbing point. She felt a brief flit of panic as she had more difficulty than she'd imagined keeping a tight hold on the rock, but with some effort, she pulled herself up to a thin outcrop. As she stood atop it, she hugged the wall, looking for a good foothold. She was about to start up again when Marcus said: “Make sure you choose 'em wisely. I can’t have you fallin' down here on me.” 

“I ain't gonna fall,” she protested, advancing a little farther. She scooted over a couple of feet to allow him to start coming up as well. She hadn't been paying attention, but down there, Marcus was silently struggling. He managed about halfway up to her point before feeling too unstable to continue, grunting as he dropped back down to his original spot. He’d cut his hand something fierce on a rock on his way down. 

Bellamy heard his grunt as he landed and stopped mid-climb, peering down at him. Her suspicions had been confirmed; he couldn’t do it. “Are you okay?” she asked him. 

He dusted his clothes off and let out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, fine. Cut my hand some, but It's just that.” He didn't make a note to mention that he'd hurt his ankle just a bit coming down on it.

“Do you want me to go back down?” 

He got quiet for a moment, contemplating. She was already about two-thirds the way up; it would have been a shame to do all that just to abandon it. So, he told her no, and that he’d hang tight down in the shade while she just scoped the top of the cliff. She was uneasy to go alone, though didn’t stop. It went against her instincts—leaving behind a buddy to continue by herself. But she chose not to listen to that telltale feeling in her gut, for once. 

“Holler if you get attacked,” she told him, slightly concerned about the situation. “I’ll come runnin'.” 

“You just focus on that,” he responded. “I can handle myself. Just get to the top and see what's what, and we'll decide from there.” 

She continued her ascent up the ledge for another couple of minutes until she finally reached the top, straining to haul herself up and over the edge. A stench wafted her way. Something foul. It made her kind of want to gag as she finished pulling herself up. When she was there, she retched good at what she saw: the sun-beaten carcass of a Pantherine, bloated and rank from the heat. 

“Goddamn,” she whispered in disbelief, keeping a distance from the decaying body. The insects of the desert had found their way to the corpse as they always had, which she could faintly see swarming it. 

Both disgusting and sad. They were such beautiful creatures. 

She covered her mouth and stepped a bit closer, wanting to see what had gotten to it. She had been looking for bites around the head and neck, but there was no such thing—because the skull had been taken clean off. 

Suddenly feeling extremely nauseous, she backed away from the red beast. She barely took but a few sparing glances at the landscape ahead of it just to have something to show, and then promptly scurried back down the ledge, nearly tripping over the outcrops on her way down. Marcus had noticed her frantic movements and quickly got up to ask what was wrong. 

“There was a Pantherine carcass,” she swallowed heavily, already hurrying away with him in tow. He had to physically stop her, she was so eager to leave. 

“Let on what it was, girl—stop,” he said impatiently with a heavy hand on her upper arm. “Now, calm yourself and tell me what you saw.” 

She explained it all, the missing skull, the deliberate cuts. Neither had ever seen anything even close to that in nature before. Because it wasn't natural; not in the slightest. That was the most disturbing part of it. 

“Blast it,” he growled, “we need to get out of here, if that's the case.” 

He began hurrying her along just as she had been doing before, and after a few minutes of running with reckless abandon, he had to stop to catch his breath. Curse his body, he thought; it was no longer doing him a service as it had once before. His knees ached badly. 

“What was it?” Bellamy asked in a pant, constantly looking over her shoulder as if expecting something to have been coming after them. 

“I don't know,” he replied sharply. “Come on, take a swig of water so we can be off again. I don't want to be here any longer.” 

They emptied probably half of their water packs before continuing on again, this time at a brisk pace. Just before high-noon had they arrived back at the familiar, smaller plains that signified home. Safety. And there reliable Jax was, waiting in the shade of a tarp he’d set up behind a housing unit. He saw them almost right away and jumped up to deactivate the barrier, allowing them to rush in. The fact that even Bellamy looked shaken had him already feeling anxious. It had been a while since he’d seen her like this, let alone Marcus, too. 

He closed up the barrier and caught up to Bellamy on her way back to her apartment, wondering why she seemed frightened. He tried to ask, but she hushed him, saying to wait until they got to her apartment. People around there were listeners—prying, if you would. It seemed like no one ever had a private affair, save for some rare instances 

Marcus parted with them somewhere along the way. She opened up her apartment and let Jax in, locking the door behind him. He waited for the story while finished off the last of her water. 

Shrugging off the pack and the satchel, she let them call to the floor. “I saw something, like…” She had a hard time articulating just what she was trying to say without sounding too out-of-the-blue, but there was no other way to go about it. “It was a Pantherine carcass,” she stammered, “with the skull taken clean out. All skillful, too—it wasn't anything an animal could have done, before you say it.” 

Jax was ultimately confused. He could tell she wasn’t playing games nor joking on him, this time. “What do you mean, with its skull gone?” he questioned unbelievingly. It had been frustrating in the moment, but, in retrospect, Bellamy couldn’t blame him for questioning her. If someone had come to her making such wild claims, she surely would have had her own doubts just as the same. She went through it again, this time in more detail. Perhaps a little too much detail—Jax found himself feeling sick by it. 

For some reason, it was only then that her mind had come to think about what had scared the feathered creature. It was all the worse, thinking about how possibly what had killed the Pantherine was what had provoked that one. That they could have been right under its nose that whole time. 

“It looked like it’d been dead for a little while,” she said, taking a seat on the chair across from the sofa Jax sat in. “It was just…too deliberate.” 

“Could it have been another hunter?” 

“Why would a hunter not take the pelt, Jax? And the meat? Why only the skull?” 

He got kind of defensive, pressing into the back cushion. “I don't know! I'm trying to rationalize,” he argued.   
Bellamy felt bad for getting snappy. She apologized and told him that he shouldn’t pay any mind to her saying those things, and that she hadn’t mean it. Disturbing, was all it had been—it made her not even want to hunt in her designated area, not even mentioning the new territory. 

“What are you going to do?” he asked her, thinking about how much they reeled in credit-wise from their products. Depending on demand, it could fetch a hefty price, which he had partially lived on all this time. The idea of his extra funds being cut was so disheartening; he didn’t get by that comfortably even with them, but without? It would have been much less. The few luxuries he could afford after Bellamy dished the credits were enough to be significant. 

“I don't know,” she eventually responded. “I’ll have to think about it.”

Jax didn’t like seeing her looking so down. She was just a disappointed by the thought of having the extra credits taken away.   
He just watched her sit there reenergizing for a while until he got an idea. Something to lighten the mood a little. “I know what we _can_ do,” he warbled, gently tugging her up from the chair. “Now, I may not be some badass hunter…” He walked over to a shelf of hers and took a shed skin off of it, which belonged to a lizard-like critter that often hid about the small, rocky formations just outside of the perimeter. “—But, I do like to think I'm quite good at catchin' these little things.” 

Bellamy couldn’t help but laugh at this, as Jax always had a way of brightening a situation when he wanted. Truth be told, she was tired from their trip, but smiled and agreed to go lizard-catching with him, regardless. The whole time, though, she only let him think that she was truly distracted—in actuality, her mind was elsewhere. Something about Marcus badgered on her, and she didn’t know why. The look in his eye when she'd told him. She wanted to find him again and talk about it. Where he lived, she didn’t even know; but she could ask around. 

Going to the officers hadn’t even been an option. How could she explain herself? _I snuck out of base to find new places to hunt for my smuggling-habits and found an apex predator with only its skull removed. Any ideas?_

Whatever it had been, it needed to be settled. Her mind, above all things. And that started with finding Marcus. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooow ok—I'm actually pretty proud of this one lol


	4. Tensions Rising

After work that day, she met up with Jax just before sundown. A long day it had been; he'd barely managed to get off of his own duties with time to spare. Doing electrical work on a small, out-of-commission parts factory all day. He was exhausted. But he agreed to go with Bellamy to find Marcus anyway; the night was still young. 

Jax trailed her everywhere she went in the market. Stall after stall, she asked around if anyone knew where old Marcus was—no one did. She was getting severely annoyed when she remembered the last place she could look. She started to make a beeline for the outdoor bar, which was right outside the market. Jax had to jog to keep up with her. She certainly was determined.

“I don't take Marcus as a drinker,” Jax commented. 

“I mean, I don't either,” replied Bellamy, “but he wasn't at his apartment, so, last place. And then we'll be done. Deal?” 

They had to squeeze in between the stalls in order to get to the bar from where they were at, and at some point, Bellamy had knocked over and broke a couple of jars of fermented food resting on a counter. Jax went along ahead while she got her tongue-lashing from the angry vendor. 

“I’ll pay you back,” she reasoned, trying to get out quickly. 

“You'd better,” bit back the man, “come see me later, or I'll be askin' for you.” 

She gave him a curt nod and slipped out, being extra mindful of herself the rest of the way. The tight space made her feel a little uneasy, and so she was glad to get out of the alley. She and Jax strode into the pub, avoiding the lights hanging from the edge of the canopy. Rather picturesque at night, with the way the lights lit up all around it, but unremarkable during the day. Her shoes tracked orange powder onto the cement slab. 

The pub wasn't big at all, she could see the sparse patrons. And at the front counter was Marcus with his hair unkempt, leaning over on his elbows. 

“There's your guy, I guess,” Jax said, “lookin' like he's had a rough night.” 

“Tell me about it,” Bellamy responded as they approached Marcus, her lightly tapping on his shoulder. He wasn't asleep; lifting his head, he looked up at her. She judged he was sober by his attentive gaze, despite his messy hair. Perhaps he wasn’t looking to totally kick off the day's worries; just to unwind a little. 

“What’re you doing here? Are you even old enough to drink?” he asked. 

“I came to talk, and yes, I _am_ old enough, for your information. But I'm not here for that.” 

He snorted, “Could have fooled me. Take that seat there and get on with it, I'm leavin' soon.” 

She did as he said and pulled a stool up next to him, which Jax did too on his other side. Marcus cocked at brow at him, and he scooted away some. The legs of the stool scraped against the cement and had everyone looking their way, Bellamy cringing. “You darted off so fast yesterday,” she started, “I never even got to talk to you about what we saw.” 

She made a point to keep her voice low as the other patrons would certainly be eavesdropping, if they could. 

The bartender came by and asked her what she wanted—which she declined—and he then moseyed on to Jax, who was still adamant in not drinking. He was old enough, but simply did not participate in such habits. Said that the addictive personality ran in his family. 

“Yeah, I didn't exactly want to stick around to find out,” Marcus deadpanned, taking a shallow sip of his whiskey. 

“We can't just leave it—” 

An explosion thundered from the factory district. Both Bellamy and Jax jumped up and onto their feet, feeling the faint rumble. Two more followed the first in rapid succession, barely a few seconds between each. They bolted from the pub and looked up at the sky, a tower of black smoke rising tall above the heights of the refining plants and factories. Followed by the startled passers' screams were some of the people running toward it. Two factories were in flames. 

“Shit,” Jax croaked. He’d been there so recently. 

Fire broke out in the wing that blew up, causing the officers to call for fire support. Marcus joined them and stared at the scene, “It was bound to blow. That's what you get for throwing up factories without enough planning.” 

Jax, sweating, glanced over at Marcus. “I—I just worked on that place earlier,” he stuttered.

Dread welled in him. He’d so recently been there. If he hadn’t finished early, he could have been caught up in the mess, too. And that was a scary thought. 

“You were working in that thing?” Marcus questioned him, eyebrows knitted. “What were you doing?” 

Jax has to stop pacing to respond. “A major fuse box blew after getting overloaded. I had to redo the wiring and install a new component,” he explained. Marcus’s accusatory tone made him uncomfortable. Could it have been him? Had he screwed it up? 

“Hold on,” Bellamy interjected, stepping between them, “are you saying it’s Jax's fault?” 

Marcus gestured at the scene, “Well, that sounds about how it would happen,” he answered. “Someone makes a mistake while doin' the electrical stuff and it catches on fire. You can’t deny the possibility.” 

Bellamy gave him an unbelieving look and scoffed, grabbing Jax's hand. “Jax is good at what he does. It wasn't him.” 

“Guess we'll find out,” Marcus said as they walked away. He stayed behind at the pub to finish his drink. 

He could not shake the looming over his shoulder. The breathing down his neck. 

Bellamy and Jax ran with another group of people to the entrance of the factory district, where chaos had ensued. An ore-refining plant got it, too—likely a million of credits worth of equipment and infrastructure, destroyed. The officers at the gate stopped the group, one stepping up. 

“Fire support's been called, stand back,” he ordered. Two other officers guided them back to the side of the gate as vehicles made their way through, kicking up thick clouds of dust. 

“What happened?!” a woman shouted at one of the officers as he cleared the last vehicle. 

“I’ll handle this,” he said. Nodding, the other two headed in, and he promptly closed the gate behind them. He wiped his forehead of the dust and sweat, “We don't know.” 

A few minutes later, he went on to give an update of the situation after an exchange with someone else over comms. Three simultaneous explosions, two taking out some of their most vital operations regarding the ore refining, and then an additional on food production. 

It was deliberate.

As they stood outside the gate, helpless to the rules, more and more people gathered. They wanted to go in and help, too; some had family members working in the factories. Jax was immensely relieved that it wasn’t him who could take the blame—he couldn't have caused three different sites to be hit like that. And although Bellamy had confident that it wasn’t him who caused it, she still felt a little relieved anyway, secretly. 

Talk about the explosions filled their group as they all waited outside the gates. A couple of people even piped up about it being a terrorist attack. That one, Bellamy did not believe. They hadn’t had any shuttles come to Rust in weeks. Even then, shuttles were heavily monitored and everyone was screened before entering. It was unlikely. 

An hour later, most of the group had dispersed, leaving only Bellamy, Jax, and a few other people waiting to see the damage as soon as the vehicles cleared out. Jax, especially; there would be a lot of work for him to do. They heard the telltale alarms sound once again, to which the officer quickly opened the gates back up. The group stood back while one by one, the medical transporters carried injured workers out, along with a majority of the fire support. Most factories had precautions in place in case of fires, so the excess left to give way to the streets. The group eventually dispersed, Bellamy and Jax leaving as well. They’d stood back and looked over the barrier at the damages. One wing of the food product factory had been blown to bits, with parts only hanging on by threads. She thought to ask Jax about which part of the factory had actually been compromised since he was familiar with them. The mixing chambers that held all of the nutrient liquid, where it was produced. Where it was packaged and sent off as part of meal tickets or standalones. That wasn’t good—a lot of people relied on it to get the things their body needed. 

“Let’s go back to Marcus,” Bellamy sighed. “There won't be any updates until this evening.” 

Jax was dreading possibly being called on his days off to go and help work on the facilities. “I'm not excited to hear about the damages,” he groaned. 

“It sucks, I know. But I think we have bigger problems,” she replied as they came back to the pub, where Marcus was not. 

“Like this?” Jax gestured at the empty seat. 

Bellamy huffed and approached the bar, “Excuse me,” she said to the bartender. 

“What can I get ya'?” 

“Dexter, when did Marcus leave?” 

“Fifteen or so minutes ago. Had a couple more drinks than usual and moseyed on out like he didn’t just hear explosions.”  
She looked back at Jax and rubbed her forehead. This day had no go as planned. 

“Actually, I think I will have a drink.” 

So, she and Jax stuck around the bar for a little while. She took two shots and ended up chatting with the bartender more about everything, aside from what she saw in the Crags. Dexter was the laid-back type, pitching the idea that whatever caused the explosions would be found out soon enough. Jax was uncomfortable by the atmosphere; he didn’t particularly enjoy the smell of alcohol, and also found it as a waste of their wheat and corn crops. But, Dexter did buy the ingredients out of pocket to make it with. Only so little was made at one time. 

“Bellamy,” Jax nudged her, “are we gonna go or not?” 

“Oh, sorry. Give me your account number and I'll send the credits over right away,” she told Dexter, pulling out her card. He gave her the number code and the price, which she paid in earnest before going along her way. 

As they were walking out, Jax told her, “I don't know how you can stand drinkin' that stuff.” 

“It’s not supposed to taste good,” she said languidly. She hadn’t had any drinks in ages; it was long overdue. The night, and especially the market, was quieter than usual in regards to the earlier commotion. It turned out that fourteen had been injured in the explosions, with just only unfortunate death. It was sad. And it could have been much worse, considering. She'd pitch in and make a care package for the family if she could afford it. 

Jax thought they’d been heading back to Bellamy's apartment until she’d taken a right where she was supposed to have gone left. Towards Marcus’s apartment. 

“B, I thought you'd be done by now,” he said. 

“I would be if Marcus would stay in one spot!” she fumed, counting the housing units aloud as she tried to find Marcus's number. 

“Forty-one.” She stopped and banged her fist on the metal door. 

“Quit it, you’re gonna wake up the whole place, ” Jax hushed, grabbing her hand. She put it on her hip and leaned over to look through the window next to the door. The blinds were drawn. 

“Not like anyone’s really asleep anyway,” she huffed in response. A light thump came from the inside of the apartment, and her ears perked. She rapped at the door once again, awaiting an answer—it finally opened after second try. Marcus swung it open halfway and looked around the edge, eyes narrow.

“You are damn ballsy,” he said. He them scoffed, “Don’t take hints, either.” 

“I don't give up that easily,” Bellamy replied, “you said we'd talk, so we're gonna talk. Are you letting us in or not?” 

“I don't suppose you’d go away even if I said no. Ten minutes, I've got work tomorrow,” he grumbled, allowing them in. The entire place was spotless. It seemed like nothing was out of place. Spick and span was the whole of it. Funny, she’d for some reason expected it to look like a wreck. It didn’t. 

“Wish my apartment looked like this,” Jax commented under his breath, taking in just how spacious everything was when it was picked-up. 

“That's called cleaning, son,” said Marcus, leading them to the lounge.

“You think yours is bad, Jax, you should see mine,” Bellamy added. “Anyway. I won’t beat around the bush.” She took a seat on the sofa. “Something about you is…off.” 

“You came all the way to my house to tell me I'm '’off,’” he looked around coyly, “why, you could have just said something!” 

Bellamy let out a light sigh, “It’s not just that.” 

“Then what?” He sat on the table across from her.

“You sounded like you knew,” she said, “when we were in the Crags and I told you about the Pantherine carcass. I feel like if that had been and other person they’d have just run for the hills 'soon as they heard. But you were so…” 

“Level-headed? Cold-and-calculated?” Jax asked, eyes half-lidded and with his chin resting on his hand. Marcus shook his head dismissively. 

“Yeah, actually,” Bellamy continued. “What he said.” She gestured toward Jax with her thumb. 

“Say I don't panic every time something shocking happens. How incriminating is that, really?” Marcus questioned her, standing up. “I think you and your friend should leave.” 

“I’m not done—hey!” she argued. 

Marcus tugged her up by her hood and pulled her toward the door, with Jax right on his heels. “Who says? Now get out,” he barked. Slapping his hands to both of their backs, he shoved them out the door, shutting it in their faces. Bellamy stumbled out and whirled back around. 

“Coward!” 

She let out an irate groan and stormed into the central alleyway, no particular destination in mind. 

“I hate to say it, B,” Jax said, “but you had that one comin'.” 

“Oh, save it, Jax,” she whined. She stopped in the middle of the dirt road, staring back toward the Crags in the distance. “No worries, though. We'll get it out of him.” 

“You are _relentless_ ,” he moaned.

“And you're not stubborn enough. Let’s get out of here—I don't feel like goin' home."

She had already begun to head towards the lively scene of the marketplace, but stopped when she noticed him staying behind. “You coming?” 

“Nah, actually. You go on ahead, I'm turnin' in for the night.”

She figured that he must been tired; she'd already kept him up past his usual routine. So, she told him goodnight before leaving, feeling a little lonesome just walking all by herself. She ambled the area until she came across a pavilion full of people whispering and chatting. They all gathered around a radio device that regularly relayed both the local and galatic news. She squeezed through the dense group of people, muttering excuse-me's and apologies for the intrusion. 

“— _craft detected streaking across the atmosphere of Rust late Sunday night was detected by the Colonial Fleet’s scanners. Fleetmaster Kendrick has denied_ —"

The radio cut off, and the mass of people let out a collective frustrated groan.

“What? What's going on?” Bellamy asked in confusion, trying to listen to the voice over the idle mumbles of the group. 

“Apparently no one does,” Hayden's cynical voice said. 

“Hayden,” Bellamy jumped, not having realized she’d been practically breathing down her neck. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“I heard the explosions earlier,” Hayden mentioned, “I’m glad Jax got off work early.” 

“Thankfully. Have you heard about this?” Motioning at the radio, Bellamy looked back at her. Hayden leaned against a beam and folded her arms. 

“Nope. Just got here.” 

Another person pushed past Bellamy and she bumped into the side of someone else. “Watch it,” he rumbled, annoyed. She freed herself from the close-quarters and took to the beam with Hayden. The space among the group was stuffy and cramped. The radio had not returned, leaving everyone feeling dissatisfied. Most left in a huff, while other stayed to try to get it running again. 

“Don’t bother,” Hayden said to the guy fiddling with the radio, “it’s jammed. Signal was cut intentionally.” 

“How would you know?” he glared. 

“I used to work as the fleet's transmission monitor. Before I got stuck down here, that is.” 

The guy quit with the radio and sighed, defeated, then left in a huff. Hayden never talked much about her previous life on the fleet; they hadn’t known each other back then. Only when Bellamy transferred to Rust did she actually meet Hayden, who still worked as a crane operator in the cargo bay. 

“Well, seeing as you just got here…I'll give you a recap. Something supposedly was detected in Rust's atmosphere on Monday night.” 

Hayden have her a skeptical look, “Monday night? I never saw anything. In fact, no one did.”

“I suppose,” said Bellamy uncertainly. “But this makin’ me feel creeped out. If it had been space debris or something, it wouldn’t have been a big deal.” 

“You got that right,” Hayden responded, shaking her head. Silence befell the two of them for a moment before a little guilt from their previous interaction cropped up. She hadn’t meant to get irritated at Bellamy. It made her wonder if she had problems keeping cool. Bellamy was turned away, looking up at the sky absently. Hayden had always envied how calm and neutral her face looked at rest. Hers was always tense—and she had some fine wrinkles to show it, too. Still, Bellamy did look pretty to her all the same, regardless of her secret envy. 

“B,” Hayden tapped her shoulder. Bellamy simply hummed and shifted, taking her attention away from the dark, bluish-purple sky. “I’m sorry for getting mad the other night. It was…just nerves.” 

Bellamy just waved it off with a small chuckle; she wasn’t the type to hold onto things. “It’s fine, Hayden.”   
When she stood up straight, their height difference was made obvious—Bellamy only reached to her lip. Quite tall, Hayden was. Narrow like a column. 

“I need to tell you something,” Bellamy whispered, “it’s about the Crags. When I went with Marcus.”   
She went on to tell her that they shouldn’t talk about it there, that they should go back to either of their apartments. Hayden agreed. And once there, she got to hear _everything_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the super long wait. I've been having a bit of a rough time w/ life so it made it hard to gain momentum while writing. :/


	5. Resolutions

Jax had left the next morning after being called to assess the damages to the factories. His advisor, Luke, met him at the entrance of the now roped-off area, where several other repairmen also gathered. It had been hard to tell before, but in person, he could see the it all clearly—it was the processing unit of the nutrient liquid factory, indeed where the mixture was churned and packaged to be distributed. Courtesy of the fleet; they had stopped exporting the liquid themselves and instead funded their little factory on-site. 

“Jesus,” Jax muttered, seeing the black spray of the blast coating some part of it. 

“This is a fucking disaster,” Luke said. “We're gonna be set back until we can get this fixed.” 

A woman sighed and kicked a piece of debris, “And that means…pay cuts, I'm assuming?” She gave Luke a discerning look, to which he could only rub the back of his neck, avoiding the group's gaze. 

“Spit it out, Sanders,” said one of the men. 

Luke threw his hands up, “Okay, okay.” He quieted momentarily, trying to calculate in his mind now how this would play out. The refinery plant got hit, too—that was their main source of income as a colony, their only worthwhile export. And to be crippled like that would mean a rough patch for a lot of the people until they got everything back up and running properly. 

“I say we’ll be out of commission for about a month, with these kinds of damages,” Jax commented. 

“I second that,” the woman agreed. She side-eyed the mess before them and then grumbled, “Unfortunately.”

“Listen, I know you guys aren’t too happy, but it isn't just you bein' inconvenienced,” Luke said, attempting reason with the annoyed group. “The sooner we can just start fixin' on this, the better, and I swear you will all be reimbursed for the wage cuts.”

No one responded. Three of them, including Jax, all began carrying their various tools to the site. Luke was going to add more, to try and get good with his employees again, but he saw it was no use to go on about it more. So, he called his boss and informed him of the situation, then left. There were multiple people working machines in the area to move the busted bits and pieces of the structure, and it filled the entire site with raucous noise. Jax was used to working alone doing maintenance. He cringed every time something scraped or banged, or when the machinery would make noise. But, he kept working. Him, a woman named Julia, and an acquaintance of his, Mike, all assigned to assessing the electrical situation on the ground level. The rest helped with cleaning up the mess let behind by the blasts.

Jax made sure no current was running through the panel before he pried open the dented box, pulling out a couple of small tools from his belt. 

“Doesn’t look too bad,” Julia commented as she inspected the wiring nearby with Mike. 

“At least here,” Mike replied. He stood from his crouch and wiped his suit off of the dust. “Just wait till we see the refinery. I'm calling it right now.” 

Jax followed along the cables that ran to and fro all of the mixing chambers and packaging belts, where he found multiple points that had either completely disconnected, or that had been blown to uselessness. They’d have to replace some of the drums, no doubt—some were simply banged or dented, while others had been rendered totally useless. The specific spot in which the blast came from was roped off, but it had been a powerful one, having blasted a hole in the wall, as well. “Two weeks, tops, for this place,” Jax said. “I don't think this was the main target.” 

“Sure got us pretty good, though,” Julia responded, “whoever did this is lookin' for a fight.” 

“They’ll get one from the fleet if we find them,” Mike said. 

Julia laughed, “Nah, we can take 'em. Let's not drag the rich Pomps into this one.” 

Mike gave her a dirty look and rolled his eyes. “Not everyone up on the fleet is rich. Or a prude.” 

Shrugging, Julia said how she hadn’t seen anything to prove otherwise. Mike and her argued for a good few minutes before Jax inserted himself between the two, breaking up the petty skirmish. “There're good people up there and there're rotten ones. There, solved. Now can you two wrap it up and get back to doing what we’re supposed to be doing?” 

Julia scoffed lightly and pulled away, “I’m just saying, they're no where to be found when we need upgrades or extra funds right away.” 

The three continued working, marking the damages and planning out how they were going to fix the lines. The construction crew continued doing their own jobs in the background. They eventually finished and headed out of the site around midday, when a portion of the site has been cleaned up. Jax rang into his supervisor and let him know of the extent of the damages, an estimate of how long it would take, and the amount it would cost. If he’d been correct, two weeks for that wing of the factory; and then they would move onto the refinery. 

“ _Martell_ ,” Luke spoke up just before Jax switched off, “ _you look out for a raise once everything's done with around here._ ” 

Jax's heart jumped a little, and for a second, he thought Luke would be able to hear the smile in his voice. “ _Thank you, Luke_.”

“ _You deserve it. Take care of yourself, Martell_.” 

Jax practically waltzed his way back to his apartment, where he immediately kicked off his work boots, his feet aching. He didn’t pay it any mind, though—he’d be getting a brand spankin' new pair soon enough. He called up Bellamy to give her the good news.   
It was great, she told him; she was happy that he was getting some recognition. He worked hard. 

Both of their lights dimmed as he told her the bad part of the news. Until the company could actually afford it, he’d be scraping by just like everyone else. The local economy was expected to tank until they got their exporting up and running again. 

“ _This is awful,_ ” Bellamy complained, rummaging through the clutter of her apartment to find her jacket. “ _Maybe Hayden was right and we should have taken a one-way out of here. You even got any savings? I'm dry_.” 

He regretfully told her that he only had enough to spare for himself, let alone their friend group. She already knew what she was going to have to do, since the facilities were closed until further notice. She’d have to do what she usually did when things got lean; go hunting. And Jax had a lot to say about that. 

He had to speak over her scrounging through her apartment and muttering about how annoying it was. “ _Are you high_? _That is an awful idea."_

“ _Ah! There you are_ ,” she chimed as she found what she was looking for. “ _And I wish I were, right now. But that's just one of the woes of living here_." 

Jax rolled his eyes, “ _You’re crazy, B_.” 

_“If crazy's what’s kept me afloat all this time, then I'll wear it like a badge_ ,” she laughed. “ _Gotta be bold, Jax_.” 

He was tempted to just hang up there, but only sighed away from the phone and answered, _“Yeah, there’s a big difference between 'bold' and ‘insane_.’” Both a blessing and a curse with her was that once she made up her mind, it was damn near impossible to change it.

Bellamy shrugged, even though he couldn’t see. “ _The line's blurred for me. I'll catch you later, Jax. I'm gonna go find Hayden and see if we can't come up with a plan. I'm tired of being broke_.”

“ _Hold on, B_ –“ 

The call disconnected, and he was left staring at his phone, lips pursed. She was certainly losing it, he thought—yet he couldn’t help but admire her tenacity. It made him feel a bit cowardly at one point in time, but once he realized that Bellamy was only as brave as she was stupid, he came to find humor in it. At times, it was almost like he was the buffer between life and death for her. 

Okay, maybe she wasn't quite stupid, he reasoned with himself. She was scrappy, and could oftentimes come up with more or less workable solutions to problems on the fly. But she wasn't the brightest, either, no. Referring back to the incident where she spooked the killer bird of the Crags by trying to get closer, he was the one to patch up the gnarly gash on her gut. Turns out she did not in fact have any knowledge of how to properly dress a wound. 

Done for the day, he thought back on Marcus's comment about cleaning, and that had actually stuck with him. So, he picked up his apartment. Put away his clothes, tidied up his living space. It was nice being organized, for once. He took his scanner that he would have to use for Bellamy's shenanigans again and put it on its charging base. He jumped when a boom of thunder shook the ground beneath him. Another one of Rust's few, yet infamous storms approaching. Rain was the least of common occurrences on the little planet, but when it did, the rains were long, and the basin they called home flooded big time. 

“Great,” he groaned, looking out from the window above his bed. But then he started thinking about it; Hayden hated getting wet. No one could drag her out of her den if there was rain—and without her, it meant Bellamy wouldn’t be going anywhere, hopefully until his account was full. Then there would be no need to walk in the shadow of whatever had killed the Pantherine. 

It made the hint of a shudder crawl down his spine. 

But, with his mind able to rest easy for the meantime, he fell asleep that night to the continuous cracks of lightning and rumbles of thunder. 

* * *

Cold rain poured overhead. The temperature had dropped significantly with the cold front that the storm brought with it. He had to take more care than usual as he slipped and slinked through the Crags, searching for a cave or outcrop to make it his shelter for the night. The temperature did not bother him, for he had his thermal regulator; but whatever game was out there would too take refuge from the intense storm. Tucked away in dens were the purrs and yawns of big cats, and the birds, which nestled into the nooks and crannies of rocks. Lizards and other small creatures burrowed into the dirt of the hills. It was nothing like his real home. Yet others of his kind occupied a portion of this planet, hidden in their ships away from human eye. And the ones that would come to cause chaos, too—which he had been too late for. A delayed mission worth reprimanding, on his end. Ultimately at the clan's mercy. He knew it and they knew it, how likely, he was to be demoted to oblivion for a blunder like this. 

Curse it, if he could just get it off his mind. Which he couldn’t. Not as he felt the sting of inadequacy, how it would follow him until he could prove himself all over again. 

He easily scaled a formation and perched himself atop it, where through the blanket of heavy rain, he could just barely see the glittering lights of the colony. It was a sorry lot, in his opinion; nothing but indigents working for their overseers, who then reported to their master, the fleet. And perhaps the agricultural world as well, though he couldn’t speak on that one—he hadn't been. Yet. 

An shelf across from him caught his eye. On it was a small, uninhabited cave as he could tell from the lack of heat signatures. Like a phantom, so swift and silent, did he leap from one end to the other, claws digging into moist clay and rock as he clambered up and over the edge. A simple maneuver. One that humans apparently found difficult. A particularly thundering bolt of lightning streaked across the sky as he ventured in, coming to settle down on the floor of the cave. He removed parts of his armor that had been muddied by wet clay, which he rinsed and wiped down. Gashes, some deep and some shallow, decorated his _awu'asa_. They were not impurities. They were proof of his triumphs. 

When everything was clean and free of the dirt, he set it aside, ready to perform the obligatory report. He was reluctant to, in truth. Angry with himself. But the frustration he felt with his own actions—or lack thereof—would probably pale in comparison to his leaders'. He typed the commands on his wrist gauntlet, radioing into the ships cloaked in space. Away from the prying eyes of the fleet of humans. When the transmission eventually went through, he started off with the usual formal regards to his higher-ups. Both exchanged a series of clicks with one another before beginning.

 _“I assume that you have intercepted the ic'jit before they caused havoc on the humans_ ,” said the old warrior.

Had he not been expected to answer with diligence, the hunter could have hesitated in that very moment. But he hardened himself and stated with bluntness, _“I have failed. I did not reach them in time.”_

A guttural snarl coming from the other end made the hunter deflate slightly, as no one was watching him. “ _Imbecile_!” roared the warrior. “ _What have the ic'jit done?_!” 

“ _They targeted their factory units. I have not the knowledge of what they for were exactly_.” 

The warrior snapped back, “ _You will find out immediately, and when you do, you will apprehend the ic'jit. We will deal with you once you return._ ” 

“ _Affirmative_ ,” the hunter answered, keeping a calm tone. He didn't dare to falter or wane as he spoke. That would only add insult to injury. A blatant sign of weakness that would always be taken note of by those who were above him, who could smell fear on a being like a hound dog. Whether the old warrior even believed him, he did not know. It was worth a try. 

He was about to end the transmission when the warrior added the phrase he'd come to hear often. “ _M-di h'chak_.” 

_“No mercy_ ,” the hunter repeated. “ _For I am the Relentless One_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Comment if you find errors!


	6. All In Good Time

While planet Rust was no giant, it was not small, either, making tracking the targets difficult for our lone hunter. He moved away from where the colony was after searching all of the perimeters, stalking the entirety. Finding nothing more than rocks, crops, and the barrier, which he duly noted to avoid as the border guards patrolled the area. He activated his camouflage. In the earlier days of the colony, their camps had been frequently attacked by the wildlife, particularly the large, reptilian plainrunners, which were fierce, and a force to be reckoned with. After the barrier had been erected, attacks decreased, but border patrol still occasionally did their runs as the creatures were mighty jumpers, able to leap and clamber over the wall if they really wanted. All carried heavy-duty weapons for dealing with the predators.

The hunter actually spotted a pack of said creatures approximately a half-mile out, who were distracted with hunting the beasts of the plains, themselves. He noted their location and movements as well; he would not come back empty-handed from this trip. 

A skull of theirs would make a fine addition to his collection. 

Tagging this section as clear, he moved onward and even farther away from the colony, getting into what he’d been saving for last: far north of the colony, where some of the most rugged terrain lay. He was unfamiliar with the territory. He’d traipsed all sides but this one so far, having expected the couple of badbloods to be near the colony for a second strike. He wasn’t surprised to find that they hadn’t been, but it was worth a shot, and so after finding nothing of the sort he doubled back around northward of the colony. 

What he entered was more of a canyon than anything he’d been in before on the planet, more wide and spacious, with a river that only swelled with the blessings of the few annual storms the planet got. He stopped and listened at the mouth of it for a minute to see what his sensitive hearing could pick up on. The faint roar of a waterfall, which he was yet to see, but could hear. When little rocks would tumble down the rock faces the clacks of them against the ground echoed ever slightly. The entire place felt amazingly lonely and still, but he knew he was not alone. The hives of the mammoth insects that burrowed into the ground buzzed with intensity. He had not much to gain from killing one, other than perhaps their venomous stingers, which he could hang from his string of small trophies. But, in his resolve to finish what he’d come here for, he ignored the hive and stepped around it, avoiding the openings of the tunnels. He went forward, following the natural guide or the canyon. The noon sun right overhead bathed him in pleasant warmth, which he gladly sunned himself in, not shying away from its light as he humans generally did. Inefficient, he thought; they made their home on a sunny planet despite most not being able to handle the UV. Aside from the ones of the darker complexions, who hadn’t as much reason to worry as those of paler kind. 

As he continued on, the roar of the river grew louder. It prompted him to climb one of the rock faces, taking swift advantage of every foothold and grip he came across. He was up in about four minutes, standing atop the tall cliff and looking out over the plateau, where he could just barely identify which canyon the river sat in. It emptied into a lake basin that was usually dry, but it flushed with water when the rains came, causing the perennial plants around it to flourish until it once again dried. 

Wherever the water source is, the _ic’jit_ were bound to be, he thought, already making his way across the plateau. They needed it as much as any other being. 

He stopped in his tracks when he heard the sound of claws digging into rock behind him. Whipping out his combistick, he whirled around to be met by a rattling beast, which was covered in spiny quills. It puffed up defensively, quills standing on end. Its lean and sinewy body was as much of a display of raw strength as his was. He got into a lower stance, staggering his feet to create a sturdy base—the creature lunged toward him with a snap of its jaws, with a set of formidable canines. He thrust his combistick forward, to which the animal reeled back and went to circling him, the hunter following suit like a dance. The animal was no small matter, it was large as many of the other fauna were, reaching just under half his height. It stalked around him lowly and rattled a snarl. Bolting toward him, it reared up onto its hind legs, meeting his own height. He tried to parry the harsh slash of its claws with his combistick by shoving it onto its front legs, but it pushed its bodyweight onto him, forcing him to back down. It jumped off as he regained his footing. The hunter came toward it once again with another thrust of his combistick, this time actually succeeding in jabbing the creature's haunch just before it tried to dart away. He pursued it, hot on its tail as it clawed over rocks and cracks in the ground, until he threw the spear at it. The shot, with such accuracy, found the neck, the razor sharp edge easily tearing through the skin and muscle. The creature skidded and fell over into its side, writhing with the spear lodged in its neck. 

The hunter approached it slowly. He held its head down with his hand to prevent biting while it kicked at him with its back claws. He quickly pulled the spear out and instead stabbed it into the animal's heart, ready to end its suffering. He did not feel pleasure in seeing prey in such pain for too long. He would honor its life and death as he always had. 

It had put up a fight, that was for sure. The gash across his chest was proof; and so he would salute it. 

“ _Na’tauk_ ,” he told it earnestly, sliding the spear out of its heart. 

He spent the next forty minutes fixing the skull as his take-away. Cut away the skin and made good work of removing the more ferocious teeth to add to his collection. He didn’t have the time or the tools to properly clean the bone. He worked methodically, though, and was making due haste to finish as he rounded up the teeth, as well as one of the quills, and set them aside on a line strapped to his hip. He was unsure of what to do with the skull in the meantime, as it was quite large and would be clunky to carry, so he decided he'd stash it away nearby where he could find it once he was through there. The rest of the body, though, he had to leave behind. There was no extra time to sit around preparing cuts of meat, and no way to carry it along comfortably. So he left the carcass to be picked on by the giant bugs and other wildlife, an easy meal for the scavengers. 

As he was looking for a discreet spot to put the skull, he heard the beckoning calls of multiple seemingly small animals. It hadn’t occurred to him yet why the creature beforehand had attacked him so viciously out if the blue, at first he’d figured that it was simply territory, but now upon hearing the calls of the animals, he became aware that it was not in fact out of territory. He followed the sound to the edge of the cliff face, where a few feet below him was a small ledge, with a cave. Curse it, he wanted to kick himself—he’d killed the mother. 

His suspicions were confirmed when he peered over and saw two cubs of the likeness of the animal he’d just dispatched. Covered in tiny quills and whining. Young. Almost defenseless, really; If he'd known that it had been a female with a brood that attacked him, he would have left the fight alone. 

“ _Paya_ watches over you,” he blessed the squirming younglings, retreating from the edge. Reality was that they likely would not survive, but he compelled safety to them for his actions, anyway. And while he did not regret killing the creature, per say, as it did come at him, he wished he had known of these little cubs. It was in bad form to kill a female still rearing offspring, though in this case, had been an honest mistake. 

He deactivated his _ki'cti-pa_ and tucked it back into its place on his hip. 

Soon after discovering the cubs, he found a spot to set the skull in the sun to dry a bit, making a mental note of its location before he departed. Toward the river, he thought was the first order of business; he could have more luck there, given the circumstances.

The ambient temperature of the sun-beaten canyon made his thermal vision almost useless. Everything blended in together as a giant conglomeration of hot reds, oranges, and yellows, with only the shade casted as the sun moved overhead providing a break from the barrage of warm tones. But he trekked through regardless, occasionally stopping to mark on his wrist gauntlet the places he’d been. The canyon's paths tended to twist and snake, sometimes eventually converging, while others led to dead ends or seemingly endless routes. He saw these maze-like formations from the plateau and thought that it would be foolish to try to traverse them alone, and so he clued in on the rushing of the river in the vicinity, guided by the prospect of clues to the badbloods and a drink after days of wandering the dry planet. 

It was already two days past his planned departure of the hellish place. Two days, and he still hadn't any idea of where the badblood's camp was, nor of their motives. Their ship was outfitted with a cloaking tech that made them undetectable to even his clan's scanners, a device which was long-since outlawed by the Council of Ancients, who’s decrees were of the highest order. And yet this ragtag couple of badbloods had happened upon this technology by some means. 

He was able to leap some of the smaller gorges, but as he went came closer to the river, a particularly large split between the cliff faces daunted him so. It was too large for him to jump. He had no doubt that if he tried, he'd certainly either hit the other side, or simply fall from the uncomfortable height. He was durable, but also very heavy, and slamming into solid ground from such a ways up did not sound like a good time to him. He uttered quiet curses to whoever was listening from up above and took the time to scale down the cliff and back into the canyon. It was inauspicious in his opinion to give up a high vantage point, but that leap was a risk he did not want to take. As he went down the rock, a few times did he almost lose his footing, admittedly. Getting up was easier than going down. 

He made two-thirds of the way down after a couple of minutes and then dropped the rest of the way, strong legs bracing his impact on the hard ground. He scanned his surroundings. This portion of the canyon was casted in shadow, but he didn’t see any obvious heat signatures. He did, however, hear loud and clear the river just around the bend up ahead. He thought that was a good sign; he could even go as far as to test the water and take a dip if it fancied him. 

Making sure to approach with caution, he went around the bend slowly, listening for any tell-tale signs of life. Nothing, really—it was quiet, except for the roar of what was presumably a waterfall. He rounded the corner with trepidation.

It was a sight to be behold, indeed! And while the perennial growth had not quite yet sprouted, he could see the remnants of last year's growth. The blue-green and made opaque by silt had even washed up various bones onto the shore of the small river, which was fed by a waterfall flowing from a ledge. It really was a sight for sore eyes, to break up the monotony of rock and dust with a river, not to mention a cascade! The temptation to try the water was all too much as he approached the river, which he guessed to be not too deep based on the general topography of the canyon. He watched closely around him for fear of being snuck up on, largely on account of the waterfall being so loud. The walls echoed its flow. 

It was undoubtedly strange that no animals had congregated here yet, seeing as the pause in the rains usually compelled them to emerge from their dens and hidey-holes. Waterholes attracted all walks of life. Predator and prey could occasionally coexist in such places, albeit interactions were brief, and generally, prey made way for the predators of the rock as they came to partake in water themselves. 

But not even were the beasts here to enjoy the river in its short life. Animals didn’t just flee an area for no reason, and especially not a water source. That had been clue number one; the first tipoff that he was looking in the right place. 

He walked along the side of the river, looking for more signs of the badbloods. Ahead was nothing but walls on either side of the water, with thin lips on either side. So far, sparse growth dotted the area, particularly the thorny bushes that thrived in the usually-dry soil. They had already begun to bloom. Dark purple berries formed in clusters on them, which he’d educated himself on as it turned out that they were in fact poisonous. Only the lemur-bats ate on them. 

Some ways down the path he came across subtle imprints in the dirt. Suspicious, he crouched down and inspected them, tracing along the shape of the print with his claw. Undeniably Yautja. He suddenly felt very aware of his exposed position, how in the canyon everything echoed, and that there were not many places to hide. Not unless he wanted to climb all the way up the rocks to gain the element of surprise. He knew for sure immediately that he did not want to go full-steam ahead on this. Instead, he decided to cautiously press onward a little farther to see if he couldn’t find where the led. He followed them closely, side by side, until the tracks came to an abrupt halt. At first, he was somewhat perplexed. They had to have climbed, he thought—the tracks went cold. The idea was both disheartening and slightly agitating, as he’d come all this way only to have to backtrack. But he pushed the thought out if his mind; finding them after such an arduous hunt would only make it all the more savory to capture them. 

He looked across the shallow river and noticed the beginnings of a cave opening, looking as though he could barely fit through. The tracks lead to exactly that. It was too obvious. 

“Now, Dishonored, you are mine,” he growled, stepping into the water. It hit his shins with a current of temperate water. He watched momentarily as a precaution before he waded in more, the water reaching to his waist. An undercurrent nearly swept this feet out from underneath him several times as he crossed. The water was a bit murky due to sand kick-up, but around, him he saw long, slithering shapes going downstream. For good measure he took out his blade and had it on standby. 

As he was stepping out of the water, a sharp pain suddenly shot up his leg. He leaped out with a stifled roar and looked down—it was one of those creatures, attached to his calf by a mouth lined with razor sharp teeth. He knew he had to remain quiet, but the slimy creature began to deposit an acid onto his leg, trying to eat away at his thick skin. He swallowed another bellow of pain and put his blade to its mouth, prying part of its jaw out of his leg. It flung around wildly as he forced the knife down into it and sliced along the length of its body like a seam. Still trying to stay silent, he pulled the rest of the creature off of him, angrily chucking it into the water. He needed to get a salve on the wound soon—the acid was low-grade and fortunately had not struck bone, but he was not eager to risk infection at a time like that. 

He was quick to rinse the area of the acid residue before continuing. 

Heaving a deep breath, he regained his composure. He avoided walking in front of the opening to the cave, instead sticking to the walls as he neared it. Every step was like someone took a tiny flame to his leg. He stopped for a second and looked up—the sun was already starting its descent. He couldn’t see the horizon, but he reckoned that it would have been purple by now, as sunsets on the planet color shifted due to the gases in the atmosphere. 

He was growing tired, thirsty, and in pain. It was in his nature to persevere, but having to apprehend possibly two subjects at once was just not in his best interest. Not as he was. So he dipped down and loaded up on water before searching around for a place to stake out, where he could watch the cave. Above the opening was a shelf which he took advantage of right away, using his powerful legs to jump up part of the way before vaulting over the edge. It was perfect, he thought; his spot was supreme for the task.

Comfortable, he settled into place, pulling out one of the small containers of salve from his belt. “All in good time,” he rumbled in satisfaction, already feeling the thrill. There was still a chance to redeem himself.

And now, all there was to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually researched a bit about (known) canon predator clans and found that The Council of Ancients is apparently of the highest order, so that's neat 🌟


	7. The Hunter's Unflinching Resolve

The hunter ducked out of the way of his assailant. He fought and fought and even tried to redirect one of the attacks, and yet he was thrown back onto the ground each time. It was too much for a person of his stature, of his albeit inherently weaker disposition. But he still retaliated, soul most willing, and got back up every time to stand his own ground amidst the leers sent his way. 

He was pathetic, they told him—unfit for the job. His dishonor carried through to his father. And his mother, too, who had blatantly cast him from her life upon seeing his performance. In his internal conflict, dual with both shame and stubbornness, a solid resolve, he let that fuel him on. To drag himself out of the rut he had put himself in, all in hope to appease the one who mattered the most—the clan.

So determined to rectify everything in the face of his parents, he lashed out on the burly Yautja with whom he fought hand-to-hand. Fought with all the power he could muster, which, for his stature, was not much. But by and by he finally got the larger, stronger warrior before him beginning to fatigue, as while he was brutish in nature, he was not quite as fast as his opponent. They volleyed many times before it came to a gritty standstill, the smaller hunter cherishing his agility then more than ever. And the warrior came at him one last time with a savage roar. 

Too large, too strong, too heavy. The smaller Yautja dodged underneath the blow sent his way, leaping to the side—his leg was abruptly swept from underneath him. 

He struck the ground with his shoulder and rolled out of the way of the next punch, landing a solid kick to his opponent's gut. But this Yautja was wickedly durable. Someone who he should have never have challenged. 

They struggled violently together as he tried to get back up onto his feet. Blocking punches, avoiding kicks—which seldom actually worked in his compromised position—using whatever skill he had learned all in preparation for this. A test of honor and strength, as well as his perseverance as a spirit. Every attempt was smacked back onto that hard ground. 

The warrior eventually let up on the spent Yautja after minutes of this endeavor. It was time to stop. He climbed off of him and stood up tall, long dreads swishing. “You raised your hand against me and have fought valiantly, Ca'jith,” he said, eyeing his opponent, “but you will fail yet. Stand down.” 

“Never,” Ca’jith spat back as he forced himself onto his feet. He breathed heavily and clutched his right shoulder; one that had been nearly dislocated. 

"You are true to your name,” the warrior spoke, somewhat admiring the cursed Yautja's tenacity. “But you will see that the light shrouds you tonight, all of you—you cannot hide your weakness any longer.”

Ca'jith flared his mandibles and hissed deeply, “I have always been the subject of your gazes. Let me to tend to myself, warrior! Before any of you try me in this state!” 

The gathering around them fell into a still atmosphere, perhaps expecting another fight to break out. All of the time he had spent proving himself, both his fails and successes, had amounted to this very night, where he’d come to fail yet again. It was a deep blow, one that was significantly more painful than anything the esteemed warrior Ahreib could have inflicted on him. 

“Very well,” Ahreib replied, “lick your wounds so that you may feel it all again.” 

“Until the day I die!” 

"Precisely."

Ca'jith, feeling the sting of humiliation, limped out of the ring with his head hung. He felt the crowd's eyes follow him every step of the way until he was able to finally clear out into the hall, immediately pressing against the wall behind him. He felt of his aching shoulder and growled. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the doorway next to him, which was so much taller than himself; it only served as a reminder. He had to refrain from slamming his fist into the panel and locking everyone in there. 

Why was it that he was like this, he questioned, so weak? His mother had been right, he judged. He was not a late bloomer, nor a diamond in the rough. 

It was that to be on the level of even the average hunter, he would have to train harder, longer, and with a dedication deeper than any other. At least of the dedication of a small one, who was cursed with his frame as he had been. But, the words of Ahreib truly did stick with him; he was true to his name. He was relentless in his journey to honor. All the more great it would be to finally reach it. 

Eyes snapping open, he stirred from his sleep. He was still atop the perch he’d chosen just the afternoon before. It was night now, the sun having long since fallen. The shadow was his domain. And unlike the quiet days in the canyon, the mark of nightfall ushered in lively nights of howls, warbles, chitters and squeaks; so many little sounds were there to pick up on, and there he was, trained on just one coming from below him—footsteps. Heavy ones, and unmistakably Yautja, as the strides were much farther apart than a human's. All muscles in his body simultaneously tensed up; this was his moment, the final chance at redemption. He’d return to the clan with the wretched badblood in tow for arrest and regain his honor. 

It was his time to shine, he thought. Cautious to not be seen, he leaned back as far as he could and peered over the edge, trying to get a look of what he was up against. A very large man, approximately a foot taller than himself. About one _nok_ of their measurements. 

Although the instinct to pounce swelled, he also felt a pang of trepidation. It was meant to be; _Paya_ had given him this chance. Funny was it that the scourge of their society would become his saving grace. He sat back and observed the Yautja emerge from the cave, then crouch down next to the river, filling up containers with water. Once he was done, he stepped toward the cave, underneath the shelf that Ca'jith was lain on twenty-five feet above him. He stayed back and didn’t dare to look over the edge while the Badblood was underneath him. He listened to the series of clicks that the unaware Badblood let out before fully disappearing into the cave. 

Ca’jith knew he needed the element of surprise. He needed to be quick and stealthy about it if he wanted to subdue this hulking Yautja. The long and arduous years of the ultimate stealth training would prove to be his expertise, despite his genetic misfortune.  
But, he also knew that it wasn’t the right time. No, he needed to observe, to find the right moment to strike. 

At one point he began hearing gunfire near from where he entered the canyon. As inquisitive as he was to see what the racket was all about, he knew he had to stay focused if he wanted to get in and out on time. Well, as on time as possible; he was already set back by a day. But the sooner he returned back to the clanship, the better. 

He stayed sat atop that rock for hours watching and waiting, until to his interest, a different Yautja came from the cave, again to fetch water. So there were two. Ca'jith, slightly unbelieving, watched as he briefly attempted to spear something in the water, but gave up soon enough as the river was not abundant with food. Bushmeat was easier to hunt than fishing. There was supposed to have only been one Badblood, nevertheless. It made Ca'jith feel somewhat disgruntled, maybe even a little uneasy that his task was not to apprehend one but _two_. Ca’jith wondered how big this cave actually was; he saw some of it when he’d first crossed the river, but looking back, he was shocked that neither of the Badbloods had actually detected him there. If the cave was shallow, that might just have been the case—but it was that his presence was still unknown to them. He reckoned that it had to be more of a cavern, likely deep and running far enough to provide substantial cover. 

If it was a challenge he would get, it was a challenge that he would take, he reasoned with himself. He was well aware that he could never take on both at once. It would happen that their water runs would become his deadly opportunity. 

He continued to watch and document every move of the two badbloods for the rest of the next day. Through sun and moon, hot and cold, he counted all of his variables. There were two Badbloods, not one, and so after a while of inactivity he quietly left his perch for the top of the cliff above him to call in to his superiors. He felt the need to inform them of the actual situation. Making sure he wasn’t being followed by any stretch of the imagination, he kept his voice low in telling of his discovery. 

“ _Tell me you have any sort of news, hunter, before I send a more capable warrior in your place_ ,” the old Yautja hissed, Ca'jith practically feeling his glare. 

“You will be pleased to hear that I in fact do have news.” 

“ _On with it_ ,” he spat.

“There are not one but two _ic'jit_ ,” Ca'jith explained, “but I have found their base. I am awaiting orders as to what I should do next.“

“ _Do not engage. We will send another hunter out to assist you._ ” 

“ _Sei-i,”_ Ca'jith affirmed him, looking out at the canyon to spot a place to set up his own hideout. He would go retrieve the skull he'd left behind and also find food, in the meanwhile. “I heed your orders.” 

“ _Stay undetected. Go, now—before you make a mess out this as well. We will be pinging your location.”_

The subtle jab was enough for him to quickly end the transmission. With every reference to his mistakes as a hunter he fell a little deeper into this chasm of humiliation. A perpetual state of imperfection, he would suggest; the ultimate pain was to be shunned as he had brought on himself before. One more slip-up and he was to be cast out. The weight of it sat heavy on his shoulders as he swiftly ran through the canyon, jumping, climbing, making the environment subject to his frustrations. His strong hands gripped harder and harder on things, even when he stood momentarily, when he could feel the tips of his claws poking his own skin. There was a sting in having to have backup—all due respect was meant to go to himself alone. But they hadn’t anticipated more than one Badblood, and so he would have to make up for the loss later on his lonesome, because he was not keen to share the reward. 

After some time searching the canyon, which was well alive with all of the nocturnal animals coming out, he came across a dead-end tucked away in an adjacent path. It was far enough from the site of the Badbloods, about two miles out. Not ideal but he needed to find a place to settle himself and his gear. 

His thermal netting kept him as warm as he needed to be in the brisk night. Temperatures there often dropped to forty degrees Fahrenheit. To keep himself busy, he took out his combistick and cleaned the bit of dried blood off of it, then took the time to sharpen the blade that he’d used to dislodge the leech earlier. He hunted, too, instead going after the small lemur-bats rather than the larger game. It was not for sport, this time. 

It was an hour later that he received a ping on his gauntlet notifying him that the ship was entering the atmosphere. A small vessel meant for things like this, being discreet. He didn’t know who the hunter was until he followed the ship to a sizeable clearing, where the shuttle was parked and left camouflaged. He stood attentively before the craft as the ramp opened up and the Yautja came sauntering out, and in that moment, he knew that this mission could not get any worse. 

" _Gkaun-yte_ , old friend," Ahreib called out, his stature sturdy and proud. He carried with him his speargun, mounted on his gauntlet per taste. 

Ca'jith bristled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello. Apologies for taking forever to update such a short chapter. Been dealing with some depression lately so writing was a bit difficult.
> 
> But, on the bright side, first hundred reads. Woot


	8. Getting Warmer

“You ever wonder why we’re here?” 

Bellamy popped her gun up out of reflex when some rocks shifted nearby. 

The guy next to her shrugged, “What do you mean?” 

Seeing as it was nothing, she went back to standing at rest. “I don't know, I was just thinking, ‘why are we here?’” 

He paused, letting his rifle down, then turned to her with a more somber look, “You know, I wonder the same thing sometimes, like, why are we here? I mean, is there a God, or…?” 

“No, I mean why are we here,” Bellamy emphasized, gesturing toward the barrier behind them with her gun, “next to this canyon doing border patrol.” She puffed a breath out and adjusted her cap.

The somber tension immediately lifted when he realized what she was actually talking about. “Oh. Yeah, the guys are kind of on strike,” he explained. “Say they’re tired of doin' it all the time.” Long rotations and bad hours had a way of getting people fed up. “So boss says we gotta go back to doing it like old times, and everyone has to serve shifts.”

Bellamy nodded in understanding and drug her boots across the ground idly. “I can see why, because this sucks,” she complained. Standing out there doing absolutely nothing reminded her of the not-so-good old days when everyone was required to do so many hours of border duty each week, if they were understaffed. “So why're you still here? I thought you're one of the regulars.”

“Ah, I don’t know. Not much to do around here anyway.” He took a cloth out of his pocket and wiped his sweat-covered forehead. The heat of the day was even more miserable with the humidity that had come from the rains. “But anyway, do you ever wonder about that?” 

“About what?”

He gave her a deadpan look, “The god thing.” 

She picked up a stone the size of her palm and hurled it over the wall. Someone yelled out angrily, causing her to wince, “Rod, I'm standing here with you trying to keep lizards out of a town,” she retorted, “I don't worry about stuff like that.” She glanced over to their left along the wall, toward the canyon. “’Least not right now.” 

“Well, I'm searchin' for answers,” Rodney concluded, his mind made up. His hunt for God started just then. 

“Do what you want I suppose, but I think it’s a waste of time,” Bellamy said bluntly.

“Like I said, not much to do around here, anyway.” 

Two absurdly boring hours of random discussions with Rodney passed. She'd been tempted by boredom to tell him about what she’d seen out in the Crags, but she decided against it, not wanting to stir the shit-pot just yet. Word travelled around fast in the colony, so until she got her bearings on everything, she was suffice to keep it under wraps. They had moved on to the West section soon after their little talk, as there was absolutely no activity on the East side. Only lemur-bats and bugs. It was a quiet day, seemed like.   
Bellamy had been leaning against the wall nearly dozing off when she felt a violent shake to her shoulder. 

“Heads up, we have a few,” he ushered her, putting the rifle that was hanging off her side into her hands. She immediately stood up and at attention, keeping her gun ready as she scanned around them. “Two flanking on the left,” Rodney said. “Cover the right.”   
“Got it,” Bellamy swallowed. One plainrunner came sprinting toward her about thirty yards out. She fired two shots at it, one of which seemed to hit its hip, while the other completely missed. “Damn it,” she hissed, unloading another round in its direction. It screeched and lost its balance in a stumble, but the creatures were hardy, and this one was out for the kill. She was made thankful for her ear protection as Rodney fired four consecutive shots right next to her. One of the runners went down, the other two still persevering. The one Bellamy covered slowed down to a halt and let out a hiss, flinching as she changed position. 

The other runner charged Rodney, to which he let loose and entire clip on it. Bellamy threw a glance over at them to make sure he wasn't getting slashed at before 

The other runner charged Rodney, to which he let loose and entire clip on it. Bellamy threw a glance over at them to make sure he wasn't getting slashed at before taking aim and firing at the runner's trunk, hoping to strike something vital. They had two hearts, one on either side. Twice the chance. 

“Watch it, Bellamy!” he shouted, driving off one of the runners. It fell back while the other came forward, forcing Bellamy to dart away from him. She almost tripped over her own feet when she swung back around and fired a few times at the runner. It slammed Rodney into the wall, snapping at his shoulders and hands. He yelled out in pain as the back of his head hit the barrier. In this violent struggle with the beast his shots simply whizzed by its head as they both thrashed, until he stuck his rifle in between its jaws, pushing against it with all his strength.

“Hang on just a second, Rod!” Bellamy shouted as she attempted to keep the other runner staved off while the rest of border control arrived on the scene. Relief flooded her when she saw them sprinting toward them, accidentally dropping her she gun as she ducked out of their way. They opened fire on the runner that Rodney was holding off, who was screaming wildly with his rifle still stuck in its mouth. It bit down onto the gun with immensely strong jaws and ripped it right out of his hand, and right then, he was sure he was done for.

Bellamy cowered away from the sight. She was made aware of the straggling runner when it hissed and ran off, to her shock. It left behind a trail of dark red as it ran, limping on the leg that she had shot. 

More gunfire filled the surroundings as the other patrollers took down the runner on Rodney. She winced and tucked her head in when a stray bullet flew past her. This could not possibly have any more fucking wrong, she thought—the pack had been so quiet up until then. She heard a heavy thud and looked over. Rodney was slumped against the wall, breathing so heavily as if he were having an asthma attack, and the rest of patrol rushed toward him. She got up and snatched her gun in case the other runner came back, although it was unlikely. She ran over to him and dropped down to his side, “Where are you hurt?” 

“Stand back and give him some space,” a woman barked, carrying a large medical tote. 

Rodney cringed and pulled his head away from the wall, which revealed a mess of blood. “My head's cracked,” croaked. His hand found his stomach, where he sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers brushed against the scratches. 

The medic gestured for him to remove his hand and she inspected the wound, all the while Bellamy stood back, anxiously chewing her cracked lips. 

“It’s superficial,” the woman stated, glad to see that it wasn't too deep. “You’re lucky that it didn't go any further.” 

“Check my head,” Rodney strained. Blood trailed down onto his neck and shoulders. 

He scooted forward and allowed the woman to look at the back of his head while he sat there nearly in tears, eyes red and puffy. Bellamy couldn’t blame him; she would have been a mess, too. She treated the area gingerly as she inspected the injury, and Rodney, all he could do was sit there wincing and hissing under his breath with every throb. 

“You're going to need some glue, that's for sure,” the medic concluded, wiping her hands of the blood. 

“Yeah, well, good thing we're covered,” he said irritably. She helped him up onto his wobbly feet, just beginning to wind down from the adrenaline. “At least I'll have a cool scar.” 

Bellamy couldn’t help but smile a little at that. He wasn’t badly inured; that was good. And he was still himself, a “glass half-full” kind of guy—she admired that part. The rest of the patrollers decided amongst themselves that they would be moving in sets of three from now on, since this had been a particularly bad encounter. Rodney could consider himself fortunate that it had not turned out worse. Bellamy counted her blessings too, of course. She was not one to take things for granted. She picked up his gun and toted it for him. 

“You sure you're alright?” Bellamy asked him gently as the medic escorted them back to town. She kept vigilant watch while they walked, for the runners were fast and silent, and she did not want to be snuck up on. She doubted they would go for round two so soon, seeing as two of their pack had fallen to them, but animals were unpredictable. She was thankful to hear him insist that he wasn’t doing too badly, considering. And once they got back within the walls, the townspeople, who had heard all of the commotion, bombarded them about it. Bellamy and the medic shooed them away; it was nothing new, skirmishes with plainrunners. But they were all eager to hear the story, which Rodney would take advantage of later in the bar, recounting his tale of fending off certain death. Maybe it was an exaggeration, but Bellamy thought it funny and judged that he’d earned the “oohs” and “ahs”, regardless. “Take care of yourself,” she told him before she left the medical station, patting his shoulder. 

“You too,” he responded with a wave, “and by the way, I'm pretty sure God exists.” 

Raising an inquisitive brow, she stopped, “How so?” 

“Don’t think I'd be here if he didn’t.” 

“I guess border patrol's your god, then,” she snorted. He beamed a grin at her, and then cringed, because the nurse started prodding at the wound on his skull with the medical glue. 

The clock had struck a little past four by the time she got back to her apartment, her collapsing onto her bed without even taking her muddy boots off. Her shoulders were sore from firing the gun. It wasn't her first rodeo with one, but it had been literal years since she was called for patrol duty. Firearms (and other kinds of projectiles) were not available to civilians aside from then. Other than the bow, which had been crafted in secret by a connection she had from the market. It was undeniably primitive, but there was a weird novelty about it. Humans as a collective had long since drifted away from the more simple modalities of ancient times, such as the hunters of the savannah, or the natives of the Americas back on Earth. Using weapons like those were highly uncommon in their age, so it was an old yet new idea, but Bellamy took it in stride, working with whatever she could to make it. 

She was only stirred by the rumbling of her stomach. She must have dozed off, because it was ten till five, almost opening time for the cafeteria. With reluctance she brought out her tablet and checked her account—twenty credits; enough for four meals, if she ate cheaply. 

“Gonna have to make this stretch,” she mumbled, shoving her credit card into her pocket. 

At the cafeteria, it was loud and busy as always. Even more so with recent events, seeing as the vending machines that were usually filled with nutrient liquid were all empty. She also heard talk of the fleet “looking into” what they had heard about on the radio, the object that entered their atmosphere and then vanished. The officers, they did their best to quiet down the issue, continuing to remain “undecided” on the matters. She made her way through the bustling canteen and got to the back of the line, where the ticket machine was. A transaction for a certain combo meal or plate, which, in this case, was nothing but slice of plain flatbread, corn, and a small cut of chicken. When she scrolled past the beef she hesitated, her finger hovering over the expensive item. Pretty much the only people able to afford such a treat were the officers, so she had to leave it, moving onward as the machine processed her ticket. While she waited in line, she looked about the cafeteria and spotted Hayden sitting near the back of the room. 

“Come on, move,” someone behind her complained, lightly pushing her forward as the line progressed. She got to the counter and the lady haphazardly handed her the tray wrapped in a heat-trapping sleeve, which Bellamy then almost dropped. Then a tightly-sealed drink in her other hand. Around that time of day everyone was hungry and impatient, disregarding bumping into Bellamy as she navigated through the crowded cafeteria. But juggling trays and cups and keeping her footing amidst the masses of people trying to seat became a learned art after a while, though her first six months there were a huge change of pace from the quiet and reserved, spacious eateries of the space fleet. 

Hayden has her back to the oncoming traffic and so jumped when Bellamy suddenly greeted her from behind, her chin rested on her taut shoulder. 

“Jesus,” Hayden said, “you really can’t help yourself, can you?” 

“You know me,” Bellamy chucked, moving to the other side of the table. “Alright buddy, get moving, this seat's reserved,” she told the guy sitting there, who rolled his eyes and slid over to let her through. She set her tray down and took the sleeve off. 

“You know, he was sitting there before you,” Hayden grinned, poking at her mashed potatoes idly. 

Bellamy popped the lid off of the cup and took a drink. Apple flavoring powder that was still slightly gritty, but a change from just water, and packed with electrolytes. “Well, you're _my_ friend, so I think I get a pass,” she jested. Her voice carried much better in the raucous setting, unlike Hayden's, which was still as soft and low as ever. Not soft-spoken, though, as Hayden was at times cynical, or even a little mean. 

“True.” She continued poking away at her food as if in thought. Bellamy took a break from inhaling her meal to ask her what was up, because she seemed fidgety. 

Keeping her voice down, she told Bellamy, “It’s just that I heard Raquel's been snooping around in the cargo docks recently.” 

Bellamy nearly choked as she swallowed. “Wait, really?” 

She nodded curtly and picked at her dry lips, unsure as to what to say or do. “B, we gotta be extra careful here on out,” she told her seriously. “But I need to tell you something private, elsewhere—"

“Why was she poking around in the cargo docks to begin with?” Bellamy cut her off, looking out of either corner of her eyes to make sure none of the other patrons were paying attention. Whispers were normal in there, talk of work gossip, conspiracies, things that were best kept under wraps. But everyone let it all hang out with their friends over a meal. 

“She’s the paranoid type,” said Hayden, “always been. You've seen how neurotic she can be.” 

“We should hold off for a little while…just until things cool down,” Bellamy reasoned, leaning in on her elbows. “It's not worth the risk.” 

“What? No, I was saying that so you would know and we can continue like normal,” Hayden furrowed her eyebrows. “Just…more careful.” 

“Hayden, now _you're_ sounding like the crazy one.” 

She sighed and stood up, bringing her tray with her, “Listen, meet me at my apartment later, okay? I need to tell you something. But not here.” With that she turned heel and left after giving no time for Bellamy to even respond. What was wrong with her? 

“What’s up with her?” asked the guy from before, sitting at the adjacent table. He sucked loudly on a protein shake pouch.   
Bellamy shook her head and finished up her meal, dumping her dishes and the sleeve at the station before heading out. Outside was much quieter and much less crowded. She went along kicking rocks, thinking and wondering about Hayden. Until she passed the medical center and found Rodney on his way out, who waved her when he looked up from his phone. “Over here!” he yelled. She came over and he flashed his tablet right in her face with a shaky hand.

“Dude,” she said, pushing it away. 

“It’s the _Maverick's_ 15th birthday today,” he gleamed. She hadn’t seen anyone so excited by the fleet’s anniversary in a long time. But Rodney was a dreamer; he wanted to be in the stars, with them.

Bellamy, not as eager as he, simply gave him a grin of courtesy and told him, “That’s…neat.” 

“Right?” he smiled, putting away the screen. “Didn’t you used to live there? What was it like?” 

What was it like? Chilly, like a hospital, and people there often forgot how privileged they were to be sailing with many of the Federation's renowned scientists, engineers, and on top of that, some of the wealthiest. You were well-off to be there, that was for sure. 

“Yeah, used to,” Bellamy mused, “until I got kicked off. Apparently, petty theft can get you evicted pretty quick.” 

He laughed, “So you're a thief. How much time did ya serve in paradise?”

“Jail certainly wasn't paradise, but four months, if you must know. Then I was broke, so, I had to move, and viola, ended up here.”   
He let out a content sigh. “And now look where you are, making a pretty penny as a smuggler,” he said, “that’s pretty cool, you know.” 

“I _am_ a creature of habit.” 

Rodney checked the time and told her that he had to run, or walk, because he'd sprained his ankle during patrol, but added that they should hang out again sometime when he was off of work. Bellamy took the scenic route home, mind going back to old Marcus. He was a slippery one, she’d give him that—but she was not the type to give up chase so easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promise that we will have our lovely cast meet Mr. Pred soon. Likely within the next 1-2 chapters. 👀
> 
> Also, if anyone was able to catch that subtle Red VS Blue reference at the beginning...I actually love you


	9. Old Flame

The night was cold. Forty-five degrees, Marcus guessed, and there he was trekking the canyon. He had his eyes peeled. Had for a long while, ever since his days exploring planets of all kinds. Until he found _them_. Or rather, they had found _him_. But the tables were turning. He wouldn’t tolerate his home being threatened by their unsavory kind. So when he spotted the ship, barely a glimmer in the sky as it lowered itself into the canyon, he knew it was time. More of them, either there to aid the badbloods, or to hunt them. 

He hoped it was the latter. 

Brushing the long-since healed mark under the hair on his jaw, his skin pebbled. Both from the crisp wind and the memories of former days of turbulent glory, at one time he had earned, and then rebuked himself. 

Their mothership had been in the neighborhood long before the human's little colonies. Their primitive space fleet, which they had so easily remained under the radar of—they were sitting ducks. 

The climbing gear attached to him weighed down every step, but he would be damned to let it stop him. So he carried on, coming to the final wall, where he threw up the mechanical claw and began to rope up. And the entire time he scaled that rock, he thought of the girl, Bellamy; so nosey was she. She was onto him, clear as day. Because behind the mask of casualness, she was perceptive and unrelenting, and he’d known it since he'd met her. 

It was only a matter of time, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👁👄👁


End file.
